The Complete Simon Iff (38 page)

Simon Iff roused himself from his exhaustion-torpor.

"Very shrewd, very shrewd of you, my dear lady. I am sure that if Agnes inherits one tenth of your charm, every sensible man must want her. To what a very curious line of speculation this may lead! Love is a form of attraction, is it not, dear lady? And so is gravitation. Observe, the last incident in your story is the attraction of Theophilus to Agnes, just as the first incident in far-away Montana is the attraction of the Earth's mass to the roof of Gallery 13. To the philosophical mind this coincidence is infinitely significant! To you it does not seem so? Nor does it seem so to me. Our minds are therefore not philosophical, dear lady, and we may thank Fortune for that, philosophy being a very wearisome subject."

Mrs. Mills was completely bewildered by the characteristic imbecility of these remarks.

Iff joined his fingers, and gazed earnestly heavenwards. "I think that the most pragmatic school of philosophy is Scottish, is it not? Then in such practical matters we should enlist the services of Mr. Craig. I think you said he was a Scotsman."

"Of Scottish family, Mr. Iff, but born in Canada, as I understand."

"Good, born in Canada, he should be canny. Exactly the man for our purpose."

"I really don't understand all this. I'm afraid you are taking Agnes' part."

"I am taking nobody's part until I have found out what happened at the mine before the fall of rock in Gallery 13."

"But what has that got to do with it?"

"Well, you won't admit the fall itself as accounting for the love of the most excellent Theophilus. And as nothing has happened since the fall, something must have happened before. That something will probably explain everything."

"I don't understand at all. But I promised Agnes that I would abide by your decision."

"My decision is that you do nothing until I have seen Mr. Craig."

"He is at Glanders, of course."

"I am naturally of a curious disposition, and, having once heard of it, I could in no case rest until I had beheld with my own eyes the place so favoured in the matter of nomenclature."

"It is a perfectly horrid place."

"No place where you have ever been could be horrid. By the way, please let no one, not even Mr. Kuhn, know that you have seen me. That is highly important."

Mrs. Mills took her leave. "Get Agnes," said Simon as the door closed, "get her here just as quick as you can."

But even as he spoke the telephone bell rang. It was a voice unknown to the magician. It appeared that Mrs. A had been telling Mrs. B at Mrs. C's dinner-party that Mrs. D had heard from Mrs. E that Mrs. F had had a letter from Mrs. G saying that Mrs. H had met Mrs. I at Mrs. J's, the subject of discussion being Mrs. K's divorce. Mrs. L had then.... it went on to the climax, where Mrs. Y had advised Mrs. Z to consult Mr. Iff; and might she call to see him?

Mr. Iff regretted that he was sailing, that afternoon, to take up his residence in a monastery on Mount Athos, and replaced the receiver.

"It won't do, Mollie, it won't do!" he lamented. "I have changed my mind. I am not going to Glanders. And I will write to Mrs. Mills while you get Agnes."

He wrote.

"Dear Mrs. Mills,

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

In the little matter which you honoured me by mentioning this afternoon, I have now made up my mind. Mr. Kuhn's offer seems to me most liberal, and I should accept it without hesitation. Even should he lose his money, he can well afford it. And I recommend you invest the proceeds of the sale of your share of the mind in sound Government securities.

Love is the law, love under will.

Yours truly, Simon Iff."

"There!" he cried to Mollie, tossing the letter across, "I wash my hands of any matter in which women are concerned!"

She read it, surprised. "Then why do you want to see Aggie?"

"To advise her to marry Mr. Kuhn." He called the servant, and told him to take the letter. Then he proceeded to teach Mollie how to play piquet, and had just piqued and capotted her for the third time in ten minutes when Agnes Mills appeared.

"It is you, I gather," said Simon, sternly, after introduction, "that suggested my meddling in your love affairs!"

"I haven't the slightest idea what you mean!"

"My advice to you is to marry Mr. Kuhn."

"But..."

"But me no buts!"

"Mr. Kuhn has never hinted at such a thing."

"Observe the artfulness of modern wooing! Your mother... a shrewd mind... has told me the facts!"

"It's perfect nonsense. Anyhow, I'm going to marry Mr. Craig."

"That fickle Scot! Maiden! I despise myself that I should have to wound your noble heart, to bring the pearly dew to those gazelle-like eyes, but the stern truth must out. He loves you not!"

"I told you he was a little funny in his talk. You mustn't mind him, dear!" put in Mollie.

"Be silent, wench!" thundered Iff.

But he had no need. Aggie was on her feet, aflame with indignation. "Mr. Iff! I don't know by what right you speak to me like this; but let me tell you that not one day has passed in these three years that I haven't had an eight-page letter from him!"

"That hard-headed Scotsman writes you a daily bucket of slush? Faugh!"

"How dare you say such things? He writes me nice sensible letters, telling me everything that happens at the mine."

"In that case, you can tell me exactly what was going on just before the fall of the roof in Gallery 13."

Mollie burst into a ripple of laughter, that swelled to full diapason as Aggie joined rather hysterically in.

"I told you what a funny man he is!"

But Agnes became very serious. She saw that Simon had had some reason for playing on her emotions, for keying her up to a high pitch before revealing his true purpose. She hesitated. Mollie understood the gesture. She went over to Simon, and patted him on the head. "He's the best and dearest and biggest baby in the world," she said, "and I'd trust him with my life."

"Is this a proposal?" cried the alarmed magician.

"I wouldn't dare till 1912; that's Leap Year."

"I'll be in Mount Athos before then. However, to business, Miss Mills! There's no time to lose. You haven't the letters here, of course? How's your memory?"

"I remember all that month as I do the multiplication table. I read and re-read all the letters of that period, because I wanted to discover why anyone would want to shoot poor Bob."

"Of course. What an ass I am! It's entirely your fault, Mollie, for making me play piquet when I should have been thinking. Well, Miss Mills?"

"There was absolutely nothing but routine for months before the rockfall...."

"Until one day before?"

"Yes," said Agnes, surprised and encouraged. "How did you guess that?"

"I had a feeling that somebody or other had been reading Macbeth. 'If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly.' Or, scorning the Thane's hesitation, turning the page to 'There is a tide in the affairs of men'... something of that sort, don't you know?"

Agnes wetted her lips thoughtfully with her tongue.

"I seem to sense something. I've puzzled over this for ages."

"Well, who was working in Gallery 13?"

Agnes cocked her head, and nodded.

"You're on the trail, and I can't see how, or why. Gallery 13 was the lowest level. It was a pure experiment; it didn't follow the geological indications. It was a pet idea of Mr. Craig's."

"Ah! I might have known that too, but for Mollie."

"Johansen, a highly educated man, and a real friend of Bob's, was in charge of the drill. He was assisted by a Russian Jew named Lipsky, a steady clever worker, but full of Socialistic ideas, and liable to fits of drinking. These were the only two men at work. It was a tiny gallery, you understand?"

"But sometimes inspected?"

"The engineer would go his rounds, of course."

"Mr. Kuhn?"

"Yes, I imagine so."

"Clever man, Mr. Kuhn?"

"Yes, splendid. He always got on first-rate with Bob. They used to study minerology and geology together nearly every night."

"But he was harsh with the men?"

"Never, till this incident of the pumps fouling."

"Go on about poor Johansen!"

Agnes started again at the adjective, and controlled herself.

"That afternoon Johansen was killed as he came out of the gallery."

"A commonplace accident, for a dollar!"

"Quite. He was near the junction of Gallery 12 and the main shaft when a trolley, running down the incline, knocked him down and killed him outright. The wheels crushed his head in."

"Lipsky saw this?"

"Yes. He shouted a warning, but too late."

"Thank you. I am interested in the Remorse of Mr. Lipsky. Was his temper upset at all?"

"Yes, he became virulent against mine-owners. He was one of the ringleaders in the attacks on Mr. Kuhn. Mr. Kuhn, senior, arrived from New York, and adopted a policy of all-round conciliation. He carpeted the ringleaders, one by one, and dealt with them in various ways. Lipsky was impertinent, and Mr. Kuhn gave him his ticket to Mexico and a hundred dollars; anything to get such a firebrand out of the country."

"And did he go?"

"He wanted to stay. But his friends meant to go back to work and have no more trouble; so they packed him off. In fact, they rode him out of town, as they say."

"Only one other question. Why do you object so strongly to your mother's selling out? The price is a splendid one. Don't trouble to tell me about your father's dying wishes! You're not that sort of girl."

"No, that's only what I tell mother. It's Bob. He implores me in every letter to get her to hold on, no matter at what cost."

"Why?"

"He won't say. He says I must trust him."

"Well, I've advised your mother to sell. She had promised to abide by my decision. So if you want to stop her, get busy."

Agnes blanched. Then she saw something in the mystic's eyes that gave her second counsel.

"I'll stop her."

"She has my note by now. I feel sure that she has telephoned to Mr. Kuhn; also that she has mentioned my name."

"You must tell me some more."

"If you developed a very bad cough, would your mother hurry you to Palm Beach?"

"She might if I made a point of it."

These tablets will assist you in the production of a helpful cough. Depart in peace, and rely on me to put an entirely new face on things before Mrs. Mills gets ready to sign any papers."

"Good-bye, and thank you. But I expect a whole lot... from what I've seen."

"Oh! I'm not to be bribed by flattery."

She went out, exalted; and Simon Iff remarked that he must lose no time in settling this small matter.

"Mollie! mollior cuniculo cinaede! We must have Paul Powys at our unostentatious board. Invoke him by the Qabalistic number which constraineth him; it is Fulton 11,000."

She got the number. "Ah, Mr. Iff, so glad you called me; I was thinking of you only this morning," said the magnate genially, not having thought of Simon for a month. "Dinner? My dear man, I only wish I could; but I'm tied up with Sharp and McGregor. A business dinner, or I'd ask you to come along... Yes, I want to see you too; but I'm absolutely tied up all day. Haven't a minute; had no lunch yet, confound it, and I'm hungry. Won't you ring me up again soon?"

Iff smiled quietly. "Will you answer me one question, only one very little one? Have you by any odd chance anything very big on just now? Something so big that it would break you if you lost out... say to a combination of..."

Powys broke in. "Absolutely nothing at all like that. Dear me, no! (What's that?) Oh, how fortunate! Does that invitation hold, Mr. Iff? My secretary tells me Mr. Sharp has just rang through to call off the dinner."

"Of course," said Iff. "Delighted! Shall we say half-past six?"

"Well, there's absolutely nothing doing to-day in the Bank; dull as ditchwater. If you're not busy, might I run up now and play that game of chess you promised me?"

"Certainly. Come right round. I'll get the pieces out."

Twenty minutes later Paul Powys stepped from his limousine. He was a small man, well-knit, well-groomed, with a great white mustache and imperial. His hair was still plentiful, of pale ashen grey, and it was smoothed carefully upon his head. His eyes were set very deeply in his head, and were intensely vital. He reminded one a little of Henri de Rochefort, a miniature of that great Frenchman. The mouth was thin and very red, the nose unusually thin and long, with a decided angle, like Wellington's. His hat, gloves and cane proclaimed the dandy. His step was light, soft, and elastic, and he possessed the quality of personality in the highest degree, magnetizing the attention without doing anything whatever towards the attainment of that most desirable end.

He found Simon finishing the last sentence of a memorandom. Mollie was typing furiously; her hair, loose and tousled about her head, was like a comet of fiery serpents in the red glow of the afternoon sun as it streamed through the open casement, and cast her shadow upon the rich blue and amber of the Chinese carpet.

She pulled the paper from the machine. Simple Simon handed the sheets to his visitor. "Your move!"

He enjoyed one of the treats of his life. Paul Powys spread the sheets, and closed them again, like a lady flirting her fan. Then he folded them in three, and handed them to Simon. The whole action did not occupy thirty seconds. As he passed the paper to the magician, he said: "Of course, they have found gold. But that won't queer my deal, however much it may be."

"It isn't that at all," said Simon Iff. "They aren't thinking about that."

"You had better give me your theory - in detail, please."

Simon Iff knew that Powys could have quoted his memorandum textually from end to end, so he did not trouble to remind him of the facts.

"I saw two objectives in these operations from the first."

"Somebody was trying to prevent access to Gallery 13, and trying to buy the mine. That meant they had found gold there in some unheard-of richness."